Late Nights
by EJ13
Summary: One shot, though I may continue. HGxGW. An encounter in the common room leads to George and Hermione planning a collaboration.


The common room was, surprisingly, empty for a Saturday evening. George Weasley could hardly believe his luck as he spun around, double checking that no students were hidden away in the corners of the room.  
"Excellent", he thought to himself, swiftly moving over to the corner by the fire. A low, dark oak table was nestled there, along with one of the more comfortable straight-backed arm chairs. He threw his bag into the chair, turning back around  
to face the rest of the room. Atop one of the sturdy bookcases, he spotted a worn brass lamp.  
"Good thing I'm tall", he muttered, as he reached up, using his wand to hook the lamp off of the shelf and into his hands. George walked back to his corner, lighting the lamp with a whispered spell, and placed it on the stone ledge. He moved  
his bag, settling himself into his chair, and pulling out several folders and placing them on the table, along with his best quill and some ink.

He had know for a while now that his grades had slipped. He had not gotten the best O.W.L results. Understandably, Molly Weasley had not been pleased. Upon returning to Hogwarts, he had promised himself that he would buck his ideas up, and try and improve  
his work. However, his and Fred's plans for a joke shop had become a very serious matter, and with a new invention almost every week, he had fallen behind. He envied Fred's carelessness, to an extent. The criticisms, the nagging, and the stress of  
it all seemed to roll off him. He didn't care if he made a decent grade, so long as their inventions worked well. He could easily prank the most vulnerable of targets, with no bad feeling. George knew it was different for him. He wanted to get a passing  
grade, to learn and improve. He wanted a back up plan. He was only half heartedly involved in a prank of he knew the potential victim was vulnerable. The guilt that followed felt as though it would swallow him whole at times. George sighed. He always  
found himself getting sidetracked with worry. He shook his head, pulled up some parchment, and began to go through his notes.

Two hours later, a muffled noise from outside of the Fat Lady caused George to raise his head. He swiftly extinguished his lamp, sinking back into the darkness. The only light now came from the glowing embers of the fire. The portrait door swung open,  
and two figures entered, speaking quietly.  
"Thank you for walking back with me Neville", said one quiet voice. George recognised it immediately.  
"No problem Hermione", Neville replied, "it's the least I could do after all the help you've given me in Potions. Are you sure you don't want me to sit here with you?"  
"No Neville. I'll only be studying. Besides, you were yawning hours ago. You must be exhausted by now! Go on and get some sleep"  
George saw Hermione move her hand to Neville's arm, patting him gently. Neville nodded, moving towards the staircases.  
"Goodnight Hermione" he said, giving her a half wave from across the room.  
"Night Neville", Hermione muttered, already mostly unpacked on the low table in front of the fire. As she settled herself down on the floor, George spoke up.  
"I reckon poor Nev's got a bit of a thing for you"  
Hermione's quill clattered to the floor, her hand clutching her chest. George smirked, lighting his lamp once more.  
"George! What on earth are you doing in the corner there?!"  
"The same as you. Studying. I think he does. Like you, that is", George replied, unable to stop smirking as Hermione's cheeks turned a vibrant red.  
"He is just a kind and caring friend. Unlike some people", she replied pointedly. George's smirk disappeared and he raised an eyebrow at her, turning back to his notes. He knew what she was referring to. Fred had talked him into charming a first  
year's ink to disappear twelve hours after use. The result of this seemingly minor prank was one hysterical student, given a detention for not completing homework. George knew, of course, that the homework had been completed. He wondered how Hermione  
knew.  
"It was just a prank, Granger", he mumbled, returning to his work. Hermione looked over at him, a crease appearing on her brow. She lay her quill down, folding her hands on the table.  
"You feel bad, don't you? I think you always feel bad. Anyone looking closely can see it written on your face", she said softly, tilting her head slightly. George felt his ears growing hot. He had never spoken of his true feelings to anyone,  
not even Fred.  
"Been looking closely at me, have you?", he teased, trying to lighten the situation. He was pleased to see her cheeks had reddened again, and that she had turned back to her books. He settled back into his work.

The fire had all but burnt out when George looked up again. He sat back in his chair with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his spine straightening out. Looking across the table, he was pleased to see the piles of completed homework and carefully inked  
notes. George looked over at Hermione, who was still hard at work.  
"Don't you ever take a night off?", George asked quietly. Hermione shook her head, not lifting her eyes from her own work.  
"How can I? I need to keep my grades as high as possible", she replied, finally glancing up at George for a brief moment. He felt a sudden thrill that she had looked at him, and wondered momentarily why it mattered.  
"You could sleep your way through every class and still be top of your year. You're a natural"  
Hermione blushed, and shook her head again. George cleared his throat, suddenly feeling rather hot. He wondered what on earth had come over him. He busied himself with clearing away his work, taking his time so as not to ruin his notes. Hermione sighed,  
drawing George's attention back to her.  
"Everything okay?", George asked. Hermione shook her head.  
"I don't know. This whole thing with Harry and the tournament. And then Ron not speaking to him. I just feel caught in the middle. It's kind of lonely". George nodded slowly, absorbing everything Hermione had said. Ron was being a prat. George  
didn't believe Harry had put his name in that cup. He had cheered, and played along with Fred at the time. Laying in his bed later that night, he had thought about Harry's face when his name was called. The shock splashed across his features. He looked  
over at Hermione and frowned. She was holding herself very still, and biting her bottom lip.

George stood up, stretching. He quietly moved over to the couch that Hermione was sat on. Her perched gently next to her, and before he could think about it, he had placed his hand on hers.  
"Hey. Don't you worry about Ron and Harry. They're both idiots, and they'll work it out. Plus, you have other friends". Hermione snorted at George's last comment, and shook her head. George caught the faintest scent of something sweet as she  
did, and felt himself getting hot around the ears again. He wondered what was wrong with him. This was Hermione Granger, and besides, he quite fancied Katie Bell. George patted her awkwardly, and she smiled up at him.  
"Thanks George. It's nice to vent now and then", Hermione said sweetly. George felt a strange surge of what he thought was pride in his chest.  
"No problem. You can owe me one anyhow", George said with a wink, "There's this spell Fred and I really need help with!".  
Hermione pursed her lips.  
"Fine. I agree to help you, but no one can know!" Hermione exclaimed. When George smirked at her, she smacked him on the arm.  
"George Weasley! Promise me now, or I'll take my considerable knowledge elsewhere!"  
"Fine, okay! Just us. I'll find you tomorrow and we can plan this out. I've still got lots of work to catch up on" George replied. Hermione nodded, beginning to pack up her things. George stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and starting  
towards the stairs.  
"Guess I'll see you tomorrow then, Granger"  
"I'm sure you will. Goodnight George" she replied. George turned and made his way up the spiral staircase to his dormitory, goofy grin spread across his face. He wondered, once again, what on earth was wrong with him. He stopped outside his  
door, and muttered.  
"You're just tired Georgie. Tired"

* * *

Hello all! Just a little story that popped into my head at work! I may continue, but depends on people's thoughts about it all.  
Please review, and feel free to suggest pairings and situations via message! I love challenges!  
EJ


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